The Rotting of a Soul
by CatChewer
Summary: AU: What if Faust made it just in time to see Eliza being murdered?


Disclaimer: I don't own Shaman King or any of the characters. I especially don't own Faust, and I'm really upset about it.

Author's note: I am very proud of myself for finally writing something after so long :D My first Faust fic! I hope you enjoy it. This is rated because of implied violence. Considering what you can watch on tv these days, this is really really mild.

**The Rotting of a Soul**

A gunshot ripped the clear, dry air apart. A man walking wearily towards the house jerked his head up, sending a stab of pain down his spine. The gunshot started the race; the man (hardly the athlete) takes off like a gazelle in flight. His blonde, messy hair flicked into his eyes and stuck to the damp edges of his open mouth. Lungs burning, tearing at their seams, he ran faster, up the slight hill; begging his legs to go faster. He runs past the neat line of bowing trees, resentfully abandoning their leaves, silhouetted black in the dark autumn evening.

Finally! At the door! Johann throws it open and runs in, mind blank with panic. He is careless, toppling over a fragile vase full of innocent white lilies. The water spills and seeps into the underlying rug. The lilies' delicate petals crumple and bend.

The man takes a sharp right turn, and rams into a closed door. With strength only found in despair, he shoves straight through it, splintering the door. Disrespectfully he treads on the remains.

In front of him is a man-shaped monster, a black shadow, body covered and disguised in black. The monster turns to face the Johann. Johann's eyes instinctively follow the awkward angle of the monsters arm, the metal end glints and shines in the dim light of the room.

On the floor a dark stain spreads, seeping irreparably into the carpet. Above the stain lies a slightly twitching black mass, sprawled on its back. The bleeding open hole is exposed to the evil and dirt of the world.

Johann runs towards the dying form. The monster shoves past him, out of the door. Johann freezes, just for a second. A blind sensation seizes him. An animalistic cry erupts from his mouth, from the deepest depths of his soul.

And he runs after him. He grabs a large piece of wood from the door, sharp like a stake. He chases him down like a leopard would its prey. The prey that strayed too close, the scavenger that strayed into the territory of another animal.

They run out of the house, and the cold evening air hits Johann like an adrenaline shot to the heart. He pounces, catches his prey from behind, knocking him down and landing with his knees on either side of the murderer.

He's so much bigger! But the hunter's wrath is so much greater, and Johann pounds his fists into his neck. He tears at the exposed skin at the back of the neck, splits it open and rips it away, the fallen man struggling. The madness takes over, sour and boiling. It spreads from Johann's broken and burning heart through to every artery in his body like an acid.

Faust, on the murderers back, throws himself backwards and hits him full strength with both fists into his shoulder blades. Faust screams and screams into the night as he pounds on his back, unable to relieve his anger, unable to anesthetize the despair. The despair that is killing him from inside like a virus.

He takes the stake and digs it into the man beneath him. He rips through the black disguise, through the skin. He stabs it straight through the skin. The man struggles, gurgling, weakening from suffocation. He can't aim the gun in this position. Faust reaches towards his arm, twists it back, and dislocates the shoulder with sharp "pop". The man cries out into the empty garden. Faust forces the gun away from the hand, and aims it to the base of the head of the man beneath him.

…

The neighbours heard three gunshots that night. They rang the police.

When the police arrived, they found a body of a man hanging in a tree, split down the middle and with the face and fingertips surgically removed. Identification was impossible.

Inside the house there were signs of a struggle. A broken window suggests that a robbery was involved. A pool of blood was found on the floor. The police are now looking for another body. There was no sign of the inhabitants of the house, Johann and Eliza Faust.

The lilies were brown where the petals had been crushed. The lilies grew a mould, a greenish-blue mould that gave off a foul smell and rotted the lilies. Rotted them black.

Author's note: Please R&R! Thank you :D


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